


Paper Tiger

by Fancy Lads Snacks (Filthy_Bunny)



Series: Paper Moon, Lead Balloon [3]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergent, F/M, First Kiss, Friendship, Guilt, Kissing, M/M, Pre-Slash, Side Story, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 16:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7059787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filthy_Bunny/pseuds/Fancy%20Lads%20Snacks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Knight Mayes' abduction from the Castle, it falls to Paladin Danse to be strong for those around him.<br/>-<br/>(Side-story to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5756842/chapters/13265302">Paper Moon, Lead Balloon</a>, set right after the end of chapter 19.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paper Tiger

The flash left a bright blue afterimage that burned against the night sky and the inside of Danse’s eyelids when he blinked. His own gasp was drowned out by the cry that tore from Maxson’s lips. It echoed around the walls along with the pounding of footsteps and the crack of artificial lightning.

Danse looked at the man beside him. Preston Garvey stared at the spot his General had just vanished from, laser musket still trained on empty air. He shook his head left and right.

“No, no, no,” he was saying.

Danse kept his rifle raised and turned a quick three-sixty degrees, scanning the summit of the walls for further hostiles, ears tuned for sounds of struggle. By the time he was facing forward again, Maxson had rounded on Garvey. His face was like a wild animal’s.

“How the hell did you allow this to happen?” he snarled.

“You think this is _my_ fault?” Garvey protested.

Maxson raised a hand to jab at the Colonel’s chest, and Danse stepped in quickly, getting a shoulder between them. “Sir, this isn’t helping.”

“I told you to tune your radios for the Courser signal,” Maxson barked.

“Sir—”

“First off, you didn’t _tell me_ shit,” Garvey replied, stepping out from behind Danse. “I only take orders from the General. Second, we _did_ tune the radios. The guards up on the wall, and the watchmen inside. It still didn’t give us enough time. Maybe if _you_ warned us earlier, we could have set up better defences and she’d still be here now.”

“I should never have allowed her to come back here.”

“She’s our _General_ ,” Garvey countered. His voice was shaking. “You have no right to keep her away. It’s probably her involvement with you that put her in danger in the first place.”

“Both of you, stop it,” Danse cut in. He turned to Garvey and placed a hand on his chest to hold him back. After a moment Garvey’s glare shifted to Danse’s face instead of Maxson’s. There was raw pain behind the anger. “Colonel,” Danse said. “Go take care of your men. And be sure to check outside the walls. Coursers like to summon extra help, and the last thing we want is to lose anyone else tonight.”

Garvey exhaled raggedly and nodded. He cast one last narrow-eyed glance at Maxson before jogging away towards Major Shaw.

Danse faced Maxson. “What’s next, sir?”

The Elder turned slowly on the spot, looking blindly around the yard. Danse had never seen him like this. Maxson usually rolled with every punch thrown at him, but Mayes’ abduction had knocked him flat. Danse briefly wondered if this was how he’d taken the news about Sarah Lyons. Danse had still been on the battlefield at the time, and by the time he’d returned to the Citadel, young Paladin Maxson had directed all the power of his grief and anger into a laser-sharp determination to wipe Shepherd and his army from the map.

That focus was what they needed now.

“Sir,” he said again. He reached out awkwardly and touched Maxson’s bare shoulder. He wasn’t used to dealing with a half-naked, shell-shocked commanding officer. “Arthur.”

Maxson finally faced him. The look in his eyes was either frantic or murderous; Danse couldn’t tell. He’d never seen such unrestrained emotion on that face before. “I need to get her back,” he said.

“Absolutely,” Danse replied. “I suggest we return to the Prydwen to plan our next step. You go and get dressed. I’ll suit up and signal for a ’bird.”

The Elder nodded vaguely. He cast one last glance up at the guard post above the gate, then turned and headed back inside.

Danse opted to call in the airlift first to save time. He hastened to the power armour station and unclipped a grenade from the thigh plate of his T-60, then ran up onto the Castle’s wall to release it. He could hear someone howling and sobbing down in the yard; other voices rose in shouted command. He dropped the grenade and watched the plume of violet smoke hiss out, billowing up into a column that drifted gently eastward in the night breeze.

Back inside, he gathered his tools and the armour mods he had brought with him and piled them back into a box. He was just opening the valve on the back of his T-60 when a voice spoke softly behind him.

“Danse.”

He turned to see Garvey looking even more ashen-faced than before. He seemed younger without his hat and coat, standing there in crumpled pants pulled on over his long johns. His laser musket was slung over one shoulder.

“No other synths,” he said. “But three guards are dead. Haig and Rawlins on the gate; Shaughnessy on the east tower. Necks snapped like kindling. None of them got so much as a single shot off.”

Danse’s hands fell to his side. “I’m so sorry.”

Garvey eyed Danse’s armour. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes. Maxson wants to get moving on this right away. We’ll put every resource we have into finding her, don’t you worry.”

The Colonel exhaled heavily. “I put too much on her, I know I did. Always asking more. But… she’s the heart of this place, y’know? The heart of the Minutemen.”

“She says the same about you.”

“Maybe I was once.” Garvey shook his head. “But I already lost too many people. If she’s gone, I don’t know if I can keep going.”

“Don’t talk like that. You’re stronger than you know.” It twisted Danse’s heart to see Garvey looking so dejected. He stepped closer. “Listen, I’m sorry Maxson spoke to you the way he did. He’s upset and he lashed out. You know what she is to him.”

“We’re _all_ upset,” Garvey replied. He shrugged. “He’s right, though. We weren’t prepared.”

Danse frowned. “Hey. There’s no point blaming anyone. What we need right now is a plan. Luckily, that’s one of Maxson’s strengths. And you have my assurance that I will do everything in my power to bring her home.”

His words didn’t seem to provide much comfort. It was hard to believe that just hours ago they had been sitting together, laughing over a couple of beers. After the meeting, following Maxson and Mayes’ slightly awkward exit, Garvey had offered Danse another drink. He’d agreed, grateful for the company. They had sat in the kitchen musing on the contents of the meeting, and joked about the situation between their superiors. The atmosphere between the two of them was easy when they had the others to gossip about. It was when silence fell that Danse had felt the unspoken question grow heavier in the air between them: _What about us?_ He wasn’t sure, but he thought Garvey had sensed it too.

“Come on then, Colonel,” Danse had said to break one such silence. “Let me see if it fits.” He’d pointed to Preston’s hat, then beckoned with one finger. “Since it’s only a matter of time until it’s mine.”

The Colonel had rolled his eyes, but to Danse’s surprise he’d taken the hat off and tossed it into Danse’s lap.

It was a good fit. Garvey had shaken his head and done his best to look unimpressed, telling Danse this was the last chance he’d have to wear it so he’d better enjoy it, but the corners of his mouth had twitched upward before he’d hidden the smile with a swig from his bottle.

Danse had peered at him under the brim of the hat, feeling a pleasant buzz in his chest and belly that was due to more than just the alcohol. He liked making the other man smile. It was a bright, honest smile that warmed Danse like a beam of sunlight on bare skin whenever he saw it.

He’d removed the hat from his head and leaned forward to place it back on Garvey’s, and a look had passed between them. Garvey had stopped smiling.

Someone had wandered into the kitchen at that moment, and Danse had moved away, eyes averted, and suggested they retire for the night. After heading to their bunks, and Danse had lain wide awake on the thin mattress, thinking about… Well, about that moment. About Preston. About sunlight on bare skin.

And then the night had gone to hell.

“Just... figure something out,” Garvey said now. “And when you do, I need you to let me know any way the Minutemen can help.”

“We will.”

“Promise me,” Garvey urged. His eyes locked on Danse’s. “I know she’s one of yours, but she’s one of ours too.”

Danse nodded. “I promise.”

There were voices nearby, and footsteps further down the hallway in each direction, but for the moment they were alone. Before he could think better of it, Danse put a hand to Preston’s jaw, rough with a day’s growth of beard, then leaned in and kissed him.

Preston made a startled _mmm_ noise against his mouth. His lips were full and firm and he was warm, so warm. One of his hands twined into the hair at the back of Danse’s head and Danse let out his own stifled moan at the tingling in his scalp. His mind flashed to places it rarely ventured these days, and his heart pounded as hot blood rushed south to his pants. _Shit_ , what was he thinking. He broke off with a start.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I know it’s not the time—”

Preston was watching him, eyelids heavy and lips parted. His eyes scanned Danse’s face for a moment before Danse pulled him back and kissed him harder.

There was a faint sound of Vertibird blades cutting through the air. Danse reluctantly broke the kiss. “I have to go,” he whispered.

“Shit. So do I.”

“Be careful,” Danse told him. “Please?”

Preston nodded. He reached up to run his fingers down Danse’s face. “You, too.”

*

It was still before dawn when the Vertibird docked at the Prydwen, but Maxson wasted no time summoning his senior staff to a briefing on the command deck.

They had half an hour before the meeting was due to begin, so Danse followed the Elder up to their quarters. Maxson disappeared into his room without a word. Danse went into his, planning to change into a clean uniform, but before he could even unfasten his top buckle there was a crash on the other side of the wall.

He went into the hall and knocked softly on Maxson’s door. “Sir?” When there was no reply, he took a chance and pushed the door open.

The stench of vodka hit him as he stepped inside. Glass crunched under his boots. He closed the door gently behind him and walked over to the table, where Maxson sat with his head in his hands, body rigid with tension. His coat lay draped half off the bed like a cast-off skin. Danse pulled out the chair beside his and sat down. He waited in silence.

Eventually one of Maxson’s hands dropped onto the table top. “I don’t know what to do, Danse,” he said.

“That’s what the briefing is for. We’ll figure out what to do.” He watched Maxson’s profile, saw his eyes scrunched tightly closed. “Look, the Courser didn’t hurt her. It easily could have, but it didn’t. It took her, and that means she’s valuable to them. If she’s valuable, she’s still alive.”

“We don’t know what they do to people. They could be torturing her. Pulling the memories out of her head—”

“She’s tough,” Danse insisted. “You can trust me on that. I’ve seen her fight. And you said it yourself, we don’t know what they do. We can’t lose our minds over speculation.”

“She’s _unarmed_ , Danse,” Maxson argued. His voice was shaking. “She has nothing to protect her from those... _things_.”

“No, but she’s got her wits, and if any of us knows how to talk our way out of trouble, it’s Mayes. Look, she was talking with the Courser. She told her men to hold their fire. That means—”

“That she was already negotiating with it,” Maxson said.

“Exactly.”

Maxson scrubbed his hands over his face. “If anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“This isn’t your fault, sir. You couldn’t have predicted—”

“I should have kept her at the airport like I wanted to,” Maxson said desperately. “I should have been more careful. I shouldn’t— _fuck_. I should never have fallen asleep.”

“You can’t take responsibility for everything that happens to her,” Danse said.

“But I do.” Maxson stared at the table top for a minute, then pressed a trembling hand over his mouth. Danse hadn’t seen him tremble since he was a boy. “I love her, Danse.”

“I can see that,” he said gently.

The Elder reached out and dragged the surviving bottle of vodka towards him. He cracked the lid open with unsteady hands and sloshed a generous measure into a glass. He swallowed it in one.

“We’ll get her back,” Danse said. “We just need to put our heads together and find the best strategy. There’s no one quite like you for doing that.” Maxson went for the bottle again, but Danse got to it first. He nudged it out of reach and spoke carefully. “For that, you need to stay sharp, sir,” he said.

To his relief, Maxson didn’t argue. He nodded weakly.

“I asked her to marry me,” he said, turning the empty glass between his fingers. “Did she tell you that? Back before you went to the Glowing Sea. I told myself it was just… good strategy. An opportunity, for both of us. She refused. And it _hurt_. But compared to this...” He closed his eyes again. “I was going to ask her again. Not yet, but... once the Institute was dealt with. It probably wouldn’t have done me any good, but I wanted to try.”

Danse thought of the day before, and the bet with Garvey and Mayes. Her insistence afterward that she couldn’t marry Maxson. Danse was not the most empathic of men, but he could tell her resolve was weaker than before. He’d glimpsed the way she and Maxson lit each other up. _(Like sunlight. On bare skin.)_ The wager may have started as a joke, but Danse had bet on a happy ending for his two friends because it was what he honestly wanted for them. They needed it. They deserved it.

“You’ll get the chance again,” he said. “And she just might surprise you, Arthur.”

After a couple of minutes, Maxson pushed his glass away and sat back in his chair. He was still shaken and pale.

“Why don’t you get washed up,” Danse said. “I’ll see you on the command deck in twenty.”

Maxson looked at him for the first time. His eyes were red. “I’ll be there.”

Out in the main deck, Danse called over a young initiate and told him to bring a mop and brush to the Elder’s quarters. “I broke some glass. See that it gets cleared up, please.”

“Yes sir, Paladin.”  

Danse shut himself in his quarters again and stripped out of his uniform. The weariness hit him all of a sudden and he sat on the edge of his bunk, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. It was only now he had a moment’s pause that he noticed his hands were shaking.

Mayes was gone. The dread he’d been holding at bay began to churn inside him. He was her sponsor; her CO. Maxson had entrusted her safety at the Castle to him. General of the Minutemen or not, Mayes was his responsibility. And more important than any of that, she was the best friend he’d had in years. Maybe his whole life.

He thought of her hand in his, the night they’d spent in Virgil’s cave. Her head resting on his shoulder. This wasn’t the first time he’d let her down. Not once but twice she’d come within a hair’s breadth of death in the Glowing Sea, and if it hadn’t been for Maxson they’d have both been done for. And now she was somewhere Danse couldn’t protect her. So many had been lost on his watch. Worwick. Brach. Dawes. Keane. It hurt to keep track of them, but each name was etched on him like a tattoo. Perhaps he shouldn’t be doing this any more. Maybe it was time… not to quit, because his whole life was aboard this ship. But to step aside for someone else to lead.

He glanced at his locker, picturing the bottles lined up inside, various sour remedies for feelings he couldn’t bear to face. His coping mechanisms were no different to the Elder’s.

No. He could forget later, if it came to it. First of all, he had to do what he could make this right. He had given Maxson his word. He had promised Preston.

He touched his fingers to his lips. Part of him regretted the kiss. He had lost self-control and taken advantage of the moment. But there was another part, a small but triumphant voice, that refused to let go of the warmth he’d felt when Preston’s mouth had pressed against his. The light was still there inside, burning in staunch defiance of the guilt and fear mounting on all sides. He wanted to hold onto that light for as long as he could.

He got up. He washed his face, pulled on a clean uniform, and headed out to do his duty.


End file.
